


Never One to Kneel

by Sassaphrass



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Loss Of Culture, Rage, Rickon's confused Identity, Rickon's thought process, Wildling Rickon, loss of family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 22:24:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7241221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sassaphrass/pseuds/Sassaphrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rickon is tired of being hurt in the name of a family he barely remembers. </p><p>AKA: Rickon picks up Osha's wildling ways</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never One to Kneel

Rickon went whole days forgetting who he was. Well, _forgetting_ is not really the word for it, it wasn't that he forgot, it was just that the thought that he is Rickon _Stark_ , youngest child of Lord and Lady Stark of Winterfell, did not cross his mind.

 

Somehow the fact that he has a great name, from a great family seems less important with each passing day.

 

He'd lived longer without his family than with it, excepting Bran, but he still hadn't seen Bran in years.

 

He does not remember his Father very well. He remembers his mother better- her face and her red hair, her voice. He has no clear memory of what she was like outside of that though.

 

He remembers being very sad and afraid when Bran fell and she wouldn't leave his side, but he doesn't remember what must have come before. Because surely if he missed her so she must have spent much of her time with him when he was very small.

 

But he doesn't remember that. It must have happened though? Musn't it? She must have sat with him and cared for him the way Osha did. That was what mothers do, isn't it?

 

He has a vague notion of Arya as someone scrappy, who played rougher than Rickon liked, and Jon as a quiet calm spot in the bustling castle who could be relied upon to take your side even when you were wrong. He remembers not understanding why Jon was so often sad.

 

He remembers that after Father left, and mother later, it was Robb who would sit with him and cajole him to eat his greens and attend to his lessons. He thinks those are the sorts of memories you're supposed to have of your father, not your brother. He's not sure, the stories Osha tells aren't always clear on what Fathers are supposed to do.

 

He doesn't remember Sansa at all. He thinks she had red hair. Redder than their mother's.

 

His entire life as the 'little lord' that Osha always called him seems terribly faint and distant.

 

The crux of his existence hinges on other more immediate things: he knows how to catch a rabbit or a fish, how to walk through the forest easiest, how to make a spear, how to make a shelter.

 

He's eaten meat bloody when he was too hungry to let it cook, and gotten so used to hiding and running from soldiers that he can't believe there was a ever a time the sight of a man in mail or a horse didn't make him sweat ice.

 

He doesn't know the stories of the Southern Lords in their stone houses, at least he can only remember a few, but he can whisper the legends of the land of always winter, and recite by rote the different clans that united under the banner of the king beyond the wall.

 

He remembers some of the names of the Southern Lords: Umber, Karstark, Mormount, Bolton. But, only the ones near him. There are others he should know, houses to the south that plotted and destroyed his family.

 

But, the crux of the matter is he doesn't remember his family. Not really.

 

When the Umbers caught them they weren't heading to the Last Hearth or to the Wall to Jon. They were heading to join the Wilding Emcampment near the wall where they could walk unnoticed, even with the wolf. After all, what was a warg next to a giant?

 

He hates that he will die for something forgotten.

 

He doesn't see how it matters that his father is some long dead lord, and the sister he doesn't remember is some great lady who fled heer husband.

 

 _He_ is just Rickon. He doesn't know the ways of castles and keeps, not anymore. His ways are the wildling ways.

 

So he glares his defiance at this Bolton mad-man and says nothing when he calls Rickon 'lord'.

 

In this instance the half-remembered past and the indifferent present are united. Free Folk don't kneel, and neither do the sons of lords.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Totally inspired by my love of tiny ball of rage Rickon from the books and my excitement to have show!Rickon return. (Please do something interesting with him D&D, I'm beggin you, don't just expedite his death so you can clear the pieces from the board). 
> 
> Anyway, it occurred to me that since he was 6 when they left, and (given that show follows roughly the ages of the actors) he's 14 now (maybe 13 or 12 given show's timeline, but actor's 14 so I say he's 14), than he's lived without parents or security way longer than with them. Anyway, let me know if you liked it! Figured I should get it out since if he's going to die it will probably be soon.


End file.
